It was dark and raining, with bad visibility, but this was Jersey, and we don't slow down for anything.

I knew there were no such things as death cooties. Unfortunately, that's an intellectual fact. And death cooties are an emotional reality.

That’s how you tell what a man’s really made of. It’s one thing for a man to be big and brave and kill a spider. Any man could do that. Trailin’ after a woman when she’s shopping for thongs and push-up bras is a whole other category of man. And then if you want to see how far you can go with it, you ask him to carry one of those little pink bags they give you.

I don't need shoes. I need a night scope. You think they sell night scopes someplace here?

If I gave you a pity position it wouldn't be in my office.

Morelli smiled. "It could have been Jenny Ragucci. That makes much more sense. I had good luck with sluts." I looked over at him. All in the past," Morelli said. "I'm a cupcake man now." Whoa, dude," Mooner said. "That's so, like, cosmic.

You're not looking for a partner," Ranger said. "You're looking for an enforcer. You hate to run. You must be worried about getting into that black dress. What did you eat just now? Piece of cake? Candy bar?" "Everything," I said. "I just ate everything.